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Why a tender curb upon the youthful burning boy? Why a little curtain of flesh on the bed of our desire?
William Blake
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William Blake
Age: 69 †
Born: 1757
Born: November 28
Died: 1827
Died: August 12
Collector
Engraver
Graphic Artist
Illustrator
Lithographer
Painter
Philosopher
Poet
Printer
Theologian
London
England
W. Blake
Uil'iam Bleik
Blake
Boys
Curb
Upon
Curtain
Curtains
Desire
Tender
Littles
Restraint
Little
Burning
Bed
Flesh
Youthful
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Enlightenment means taking full responsibility for your life.
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The voice of honest indignation is the voice of God.
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It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.
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Without minute neatness of execution, the sublime cannot exist! Grandeur of ideas is founded on precision of ideas.
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A dead body revenges not injuries.
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Like a fiend in a cloud, With howling woe, After night I do crowd, And with night will go I turn my back to the east, From whence comforts have increased For light doth seize my brain With frantic pain.
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Mans desires are limited by his perceptions none can desire what he has not perceived.
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The Fool shall not enter into Heaven let him be ever so Holy.
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O God, protect me from my friends, that they have not power over me. Thou hast giv'n me power to protect myself from thy bitterest enemies.
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In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors.
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Mysteries are not to be solved. They eye goes blind when it only wants to see why.
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My mother groaned, my father wept, into the dangerous world I leapt.
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He who would do good to another must do it in Minute Particulars: general Good is the plea of the scoundrel, hypocrite, and flatterer, for Art and Science cannot exist but in minutely organized Particulars.
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For I dance And drink and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. If thought is life And strength and breath And the want Of thought is death Then am I A happy fly If I live Or if I die
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I must create a system or be enslaved by another mans I will not reason and compare: my business is to create.
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God and His Priest and King,...make up a heaven of our misery.
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The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.
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The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity, too great for the eye of man.
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Joy and woe are woven fine.
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O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady roof there thou may'st rest, And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe And all the daughters of the year shall dance! Sing now the lusty song of fruit and flowers.
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